--- Beonnie --- 

I woke up to birds chirping and mild sunrays that had strayed into my humble abode. My cave came with a great view over what I assumed was the unknown pack's territory. It was vast and beautiful, with deep forests, rolling hills, cliffs, lakes, and even mountains in the distance. Lush, green, blue, and the air was clean and full of life. It seemed friendly. I could stay here for a while.

Standing with the cave in my back, I had cliffsides to my left, a small trail to my right, and just a couple of steps in front of me; the ground was no more. I crept to the edge and peeked over it, overjoyed as I discovered that the cave was situated above an underground creek that splashed into a waterfall just beneath me. The waterfall created a shallow pool at the bottom that turned into a stream in both directions, functioning as a natural water barrier against anyone daring to cross what I understood was the pack border.

It was fair to say it was far from the ground from here, but not farther than I could see and hear what happened down there. At this moment, two werewolves sat on one of the rocks before the waterfall, basking in the early morning sun. They were in human form, and they were beautiful. 

The woman had long copper-brown hair and an air of playfulness around her. The male werewolf was clearly infatuated with her, and with his copper-brown hair, they made a perfect match. The scene in front of me was serene. I laid down on my stomach not to be detected but also, admittedly, to hear them better.

The wind was in my favour, making the sounds from below jump towards the cliffs, giving me ample opportunity to hear what they said. Of course, a positive side effect was that it also covered my scent a bit. However, the couple below were wholly engulfed by each other and would probably not have noticed if an entire band of rogues had passed them.

The female gently caressed the male's cheek and slumped her shoulders. I imagined she also sighed.

"Oh, Tristan. I.. if only we had known before, we could have..."

He put his finger on her lips.

"Shh, Dhalia. It will be fine. I will figure something out. Perhaps Zac can help us somehow."

The werewolf I now knew as Dhalia raised her head, looking intently into the male werewolf's eyes.

"You think Zac can do something? He would help us?"

"Of course, he would. He can talk Alpha out of this. Hopefully."

The male wolf, Tristan, stood up as if the plan to solve whatever their problem was would appear more quickly in standing form. He ran his fingers through his hair and started pacing around the small opening before the waterfall. He was tall and muscular, and if he had been part of my pack, he would have almost been the size of Alpha Carson. Ugh, that was one person I didn't need reminding of.

"I can't believe it has come to this. Not allowing fated mates to be with each other. It just isn't right," Tristan said, almost spitting out the words. "I mean, I know that Alpha thinks this will help the pack, but just because he hasn't found his mate, the rest of us shouldn't have to suffer."

Dhalia got up from the rock and stopped him midstep by gently grabbing his wrist. They stared in amazement at where their bodies touched and then at each other, replacing their frustration with smiles. I knew how they felt. Well, okay, I didn't exactly know, but I knew how it was supposed to feel, having heard but mostly read about it.

Dhalia and Tristan were obviously mates, their senses heightened by the mere proximity of their fated one, and even the slightest touch would send joyful shivers throughout their bodies. Nothing or no one else ever mattered as much as your fated mate as soon as you found each other. Even I got butterflies when witnessing a real-life rom-com materialising in front of my eyes. However, it sounded more like a romantic drama than a happy-go-lucky rom-com since something was amiss with the couple on the ground beneath me.

"I know," Dhalia replied with equal animosity in her tone. "And now he probably is too old to find her, making us all suffer. I don't think I have had this many bruises before."

Tristan's fingers gently brushed over what perhaps were bruises on her legs, mumbling something consoling to his mate.

Suddenly, his head jerked up, and he froze midmovement. I first thought he had sensed my presence, but after a few milliseconds of agony, I understood that he was mind-linked by someone. Then, a couple of seconds later, he unfroze and raised his hand before him, his mate following his lead. They allowed their fingertips to brush against each other lightly.

"I am sorry, Dhalia, but I need to go. The shift is almost over, and I have to report back. I assume you have to do the same. Are you on patrol duty tonight?"

She nodded and started to lean into him but stopped herself before making complete body contact. I felt both their longing and their sorrow from my elevated position.

"See you here again tomorrow morning?" she gently caressed the air millimetres from his chiselled face, and even I wanted to lean into her hand and close my eyes. 

He smiled, took one last sip of the moment, and left by walking backwards to savour her for as long as he could. She laughed at his silliness and left in the other direction.

Oh. I rolled over to my back, grinning like a lovestruck teenager. I wanted that, too—well, without the apparent issues—but someone who looked at me like that.

--- Hild ---

He came back early that day. New management "assholes" had taken a good look at his character and agreed, quite rightfully, I'd say, that he wasn't their type of material and had decided to let him go. He decided that the best way to handle his unemployment was to drink and gamble, and that was how he spent the day. 

By the afternoon, he staggered into the kitchen from the patio outside and almost fell over as he tried to walk towards me.

"Hilsh... Come here," he slumbered and slumped down on a chair. "Come sit..."

He clapped his hands on his knees, and I put on what I hoped was an endearing smile.

"Maybe you should get something to eat? Do you want me to-", I started, but he waved his hand to stop me.

"Come here, I said," he continued with a sternness in his voice that signalled something that I stupidly dismissed. 

"Kurt, you have been drinking all-," I started but was quickly interrupted as his fist slammed onto the kitchen table.

"Goddamit, woman, stop nagging all the time. You can spread your legs for everyone else, but not for me, huh?" he said, glaring at me.

"It's not-," I said but stopped as he stood up. 

"Since you are such an unfaithful whore, I think it's not more than right that I get some of the money too."

I was going to reply but kept my mouth shut when he staggered over to my purse and took out my wallet and the tip money I still had in there. He waved the bills towards me and smirked.

"Did you want to say something?" 

I didn't. Or I did, but I figured being quiet was the better option.

"Nah, I didn't think so. Deep down, you know I am right," he said, and even I could sense the malice in his voice. I'm going out, and when I come home, I want you to treat me a little better."

I stared down into the sink, hoping, praying that he would leave. He passed me and grabbed my boob, bruise-hard, put his face close to mine and whispered:

"Much better."

And then he left. 

Angry tears threatened to escape, but I kept them at bay until I was sure he was gone. 

That night, he got so wasted at the local bar that he needed to be picked up in the middle of the night and treated like an infant the next day.

Guilt crept in during the morning, but unable to handle the shame, he found something to nag on, as if it was okay if he felt bad as long as someone else did too. In this case, I was targeted since no one else was around but Harry and me. 

"Kurt, maybe you shouldn't drink today, you—" I tried during the morning when he complained about having a headache and being thirsty. 

"Stop," he muttered under his breath, and his voice made Harry raise his head from his bed in the corner of the kitchen. 

"I'm just saying that-" I continued, hoping some sense could be conveyed. 

Harry let out a low, almost unhearable, growl like a warning. As I said, he never liked me. 

"Stop being such a nagging bitch," Kurt replied and got up from his chair. "Make yourself useful and hand me a beer." 

"Kurt," I said with the softest voice I could muster. 

"I warned you, woman. If you say as much as another word right now, I swear I will-" he never completed the sentence as he searched his pockets for something distracting. 

A small metallic fold was procured, and he carefully opened it and put the white powder towards his nostrils. A quick inhale later, and the drug was in his system. 

I wasn't worried about that. I was more concerned about how he had paid for it. 

"Where di-".

The hit was so fast I almost didn't feel it, but the soaring burn afterwards made my hand move towards my cheek, where I expected a red flaming colour to appear. 

"This is your fault, I warned you," he said and glared at me. "I told you, not another word. You chose this. Not me."

I backed away from him, still holding my hand towards my cheek.

"Kurt, I-"

His fist hit me hard in the face, and everything went black.